


Speak now or forever hold your peace.

by dlivius



Series: Teen Witch [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Bond, Familiars, Magic, Magic Bond, Witch Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2418290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dlivius/pseuds/dlivius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a witch, which means he just needs a broomstick and a familiar. The latter of the two is harder to find. It has to be a supernatural creature, and there has to be a magical bond there (whatever that is, Deaton wasn't too specific).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak now or forever hold your peace.

“You need a familiar?” Scott rolls onto his back and peered up at Stiles. 

“Yeah, that’s what Deaton said.” Stiles clicks at the computer, pretending to be researching rather than actually reading any of the webpages he has open.

“Like a witch, black cats and all that?” Scott asks. Stiles sighs, turning in his desk chair to find his friend upside down on his with eyebrows pressed up and questioning. Scot was looking more and more like a dog each day.

“Yes Scott, like a witch. I’m a witch, or so Deaton says.” Stiles tosses one arm out and lets it drop into his lap.

“Cool.” Scott grins.

“No it’s not cool.” Stiles says. “Being a werewolf with supernatural fighting powers? That’s cool. A banshee that can sense death, cool. A murderous Kanima? Still cooler than being a witch. A very human, very mortal witch.” 

“Can you get, like, a toad as a familiar?” Scott tilts his head as he asks and Stiles groans as he turns back to his research. Half of the sites are Wiccan forums that Stiles thinks are more religious than real. 

“Ok, Dude, sorry.” Scott rolls back around and jumps up so he’s sitting on the bed. “What did Deaton say? Did he tell you anything else? Like where to find a familiar?”

Stiles taps at the keys before swinging back around in his chair.

“Deaton said familiars are always supernatural creatures.” Stiles says and Scott’s eyebrows skyrocket. “You know, Phoenixes, Water Horses, werewolves, hinkypunks, gnomes. Deaton says the more human a creature is the better the connection works. Like our souls have to connect or something. ”

“You said werewolves?” Scott asks. “We know a lot of werewolves. I’m a werewolf.” 

Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t think it works like that. Deaton said the connection is based on… on a similarity between souls.”

“We’re practically brothers,” Scott reaches out to hit Stiles gently on the shoulder. “Dude, I’d love to be your familiar.”

Stiles gives a laugh. “Pretty sure that you have enough on your plate with the whole true alpha thing you have to figure out. But appreciated dude.”

Scott pouts, and the two pause to stare at their hands for a minute or so.

“Ok, so what is Deaton’s familiar?” Scot finally asks. 

“Uh, well. Deaton doesn’t have one.” Stiles lets his fingers twitch and his knees bounce. “I mean, he’s not a witch.”

Scott’s face is priceless, the contorted look of confusion on it. 

“What is he?” Scott asks and Stiles shrugs.

“I don’t know man, getting information out of Deaton is like… like trying to sneak up on Derek in the shower so you can hear him belt out show tunes.” Which they had done, quite a few times. Just to see if Peter was lying… he wasn’t. That didn’t mean Derek was happy about anyone hearing his rendition of _Popular_.

“Ok, whatever,” Scott shakes his head, before bouncing to look to Stiles with a wide crooked smile. “I’ve got a plan,”

…

Scott’s plan is for Stiles to spend a little one on one time with every werewolf in the pack to see if anyone clicks. Deaton had said Stiles would know when he came in contact with a suitable match when he did. He didn’t say how, if there would be a sign or Stiles’ right hand would tingle or anything. Deaton was pretty selective about information that way. It was infuriating.

Stiles spends his first day with Scott. They play Halo, order pizza, marathon Nicholas Cage movies, and eat a whole tube of pre-made cookie dough with sticky fingers. It’s great, in fact it reminds Stiles a lot of all there pre-werewolf times but it doesn’t… click.

“I don’t know how I’m even supposed to know, but I know it’s not this.” Stiles says, head lolling back on the couch.

“Hey, we tried. We’re still brothers.” Scott says rolling a hunk of cookie dough into a ball to eat. Stiles looks to him and grin.

…

Lydia is next, but Stiles mostly follows her and Allison around the mall carrying their bags.

“You know, I’m not sure banshees would even make a good familiar. Aren’t you supposed to pick something that can help you out in your witchy things?” Lydia hums, throwing her strawberry curls over one shoulder. “All I’d do is point you in the direction of the next dead body. That one Allison, the black brings out your kill first ask question later side and the bow… well the boy reminds us all you’re still a girl.”

Stiles knows she has a point. That doesn’t stop him from being disappointed at the lack of magical soul mate bond.

…

Isaac is next. They get milkshakes and burgers and Stiles feels a bit like it’s a date. It’s not a date. They skirt around conversation while picking at their food. Isaac is a pretty funny guy when he’s not trying to kill your elementary school crush, or throwing sarcasm at you while facing certain doom. Stiles can appreciate some good sarcasm, even if it’s pointed at him, but especially when it’s not.  
Isaac doesn’t have anything on Peter when it comes to the snark department, and the tortured look in his eyes isn’t as mournful as Derek’s. The puppy dog eyes kind of kill the look.

Stiles drives Isaac back to Scott’s where he’s staying while the state tries to place him somewhere. Isaac doesn’t get out right away, and Stiles fumbles with the radio as they both recognize the song.

When Isaac decides to leave, he first leans forward and tries to kiss Stiles. Tries is a keyword, as a lot of flailing and _“Dude, what are you doing?”_ causes the werewolf to fail.

“Scott… said you were looking for a connection,” Isaac says quietly, blue eyes blinking confused.

“For a familiar—not… what?” Stiles sputters. “Dude you’re gay?”

“Scott said you needed a magic friend…” Isaac frowns, ignoring the question.

“Yeah, like a literally friend who can help me develop my magic by working as a grounding unit.” Stiles flails again. “But dude since when are you gay?”

Isaac’s face contorts into a quick look of recognition and then embarrassment. 

“I never really… gave it a thought until… Scott—” Isaac starts but Stiles cuts him off.

“No, no I really don’t want to know. Just… tonight was fun and all, but it’s not you it’s me.” Stiles never thought he’d be saying those words… like ever… but definitely not to Isaac after an awkward night of banana milk shakes and habanero steak burgers.

…

Aiden says no before Scott and Stiles can stop explaining and really Stiles is happy. He feels nothing but repulsion at the thought of hanging out with the murderous alpha who’s slept with his dream girl. So he’s more than happy to cross the werewolf off his list. 

Ethan is a little more palatable, but spending a day with him means spending a day with Danny too. While it’s not the worst thing that could happen to him, it’s certainly not Stiles ideal Saturday afternoon.

They don’t hang around the mall, but Danny insists on grabbing coffees at a private owned shop and then dragging Ethan and Stiles both around boutique after boutique in downtown Beacon Hills.

Nothing pings on Stiles magical radar (which he’s beginning to believe is broken, because he has to have something in common with his friends). He does get a new pair of jeans, and a handful of t-shirts a la Danny’s trust fund and disgust at Stiles current wardrobe. In Danny’s words _“If you want to attract a guy around here you need to look… well… you need a look that doesn’t scream seventeen year old wearing his moms flannels.”_

“They’re not my mom’s,” Stiles sputters. 

“The buttons, Stiles. Menswear buttons on the other side, I thought you paid attention to everything Lydia.” Ethan chimes. Stiles looks at the buttons on his shirt and back up to the pair.

“I may have zoned out,” He rolls his eyes. “Besides who says I’m trying to get a boyfriend?”

“Your entire lack of homophobic manliness, and the fact you want to know if you’re attractive to guys,” Danny held up another shirt, pressing his lips together and looking sideways to Ethan. Stiles gaped but said no more.

…

Derek was already at his house when Danny and Ethan dropped Stiles off.

“Don’t laugh,” Stiles says as he stomps through the door with a bag in one hand and new gear already on. Apparently, Danny knew people and that meant being able to walk out of the store in your new clothes.

“Wasn’t going to.” Derek follows Stiles inside. “You look good actually.” 

Stiles gives a sharp laugh, throwing the bags onto the couch. It’s still pretty weird hearing Derek string together more than a few growly threats.

“So what’s up sourwolf? What creepy crawly has you hear begging for research today?” Stiles turns to find Derek scowling at him with all of his eyebrows. 

“Scott said you needed a familiar.” Derek huffs out. Stiles blinks.

“You—you think you want to be my familiar?” Stiles asks. “Are you forgetting how annoying you think I am?”

Derek’s scowl deepens. “No one’s perfect.

“Oh, thank you,” Stiles gushes breathily.

“You’ve saved my life, multiple times.” Derek huffs. “Look, I just want to help, but if you don’t want me,” He gestures to the door.

“What?” Stiles nearly rushes forward to grab the werewolf. “Of course I want you. I mean, in the… the as a magical familiar way not the…” Stiles forces a cough and points to the kitchen. “Nachos?” He asks.

Derek’s eyebrows do confused twitchy jumps before the werewolf is answering.

“Who doesn’t like nachos?”

Stiles gapes, but says no more.

They spend the night marathoning the x-files and talking over nachos, popcorn, and frozen girl scout cookies. Stiles gets to know a lot about Derek. Like how he was in love with Dana Scully as a child, or how he can pack away food like the literal wolf.

Stiles also finds out things along a more sensitive nature that he never, ever, in a million years would have expected Derek opening up and sharing.

“You’re telling me you never had a gay thing in college?” Stiles asks nudging Derek’s leg with his foot.

“Nearly all of my girlfriends have tried to kill me, you really think I was going to widen the pool?” Derek replies, a hint of humor almost in his voice. “What about you Stiles, have you had a gay thing?” Derek asks and the way his eyebrows jump and the infliction he puts in his voice makes Stiles nearly laugh. To think Derek, Creepy Derek Hale, is slumber party gossiping with him.

“Dude, I’ve hardly had a thing. I mean, Lydia doesn’t count because a panic attack was involved, and my friend from elementary school was murdered so I don’t want to count that out of respect, and Isaac…. Isaac maybe got my cheek but it was totally one sided.” Stiles sighs, leaning back against the cushions.

“Isaac?” Derek’s eyebrows skyrocket.

“Apparently has a massive man-crush on Scott.” Stiles blows out air. Derek gives a huff of laughter.

“Well, yeah,” Derek says.

“Wait, what?” Stiles flails to sit upright. “Don’t tell me you actually snoop around with your super senses!”

“It’s not considered snooping when someone projects it so much.” Derek replies and Stiles freezes. He watches the werewolf sip his soda. Derek eventually turns to smirk at him and Stiles groans.

“Dude you have a hot ass, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Derek hums.

“You’re a tease.” Stiles huffs and Derek just chuckles. 

If it weren’t for Derek’s soul crushing heterosexuality Stiles would have said there was something there. A flicker of connection. Maybe it was there, maybe Stiles was seventeen and horny.

“Am I the only one who knows you’re bisexual?” Derek asks.

“Shuttup. I’m still working on my coming out speech.” Stiles replies. Derek just snickers and Stiles kicks him. They end up falling asleep on the couch, x-files theme in the background.

…

Stiles has given up on the pack by the time he sees Derek out the next morning. It would have been nice having a familiar in the pack, but the chances were one in a million. Stiles knows that. He figures plan B is not going to be as easy as searching craigslist adds for magical beings wishing to find their witchy soul mate. He’s probably going to have to take some road trips, and there will probably be fairy dust involved. Stiles hates fairy dust, it makes him sneeze. 

He’s thinking he can probably convince Derek to come with him on his familiar hunting camp outs when the doorbell rings. Stiles opens it with a frown that only furthers as he finds Peter Hale leaning on the frame and smiling down at him.

“Here to pick up my Nephew, heard he was spending the night.” Peter practically purrs.

“He left as soon as he finished his cup of coffee,” Stiles says, keeping his expression tight and blank. He hasn’t forgiven Peter entirely, there’s still something off about the werewolf.

“Cup of coffee sounds amazing right now,” Peter lets himself in and Stiles groans as he closes the door. The werewolf gives him a slow and smirking once over—it’s the skinny jeans and fitted tee and Stiles is _so_ going to kill Danny.

“One cup,” he says, because he knows you can’t get rid of Peter as easily as anyone would want.

Peter just grins and follows him into the kitchen. He leans against the counter, hovering over Stiles as the teen pours a cup of coffee.

“Milk, sugar?” Stiles asks.

“Black,” Peter replies.

“Like your soul.” Stiles mutters and looks to catch those blue eyes staring at him, twinkling with laughter the way Stiles imagines J.K. Rowling to have meant whenever she described Dumbledore. Peter is as far from Dumbledore as you can get it.

“A little birdy told me you’re looking for a familiar.” Peter says.

“I’m thinking hippogriffs. You know you can ride them, I mean if Harry Potter didn’t lie to me.” Stiles replies and holds the coffee mug out to the werewolf.

Peter takes it, fingers curling around Stiles over the mug. While leaning, hovering, and general lack of personal space is something they have all gotten used to with the reanimated werewolf, actual physical contact is not.

Stiles opens his mouth to snap at the werewolf for being a creep when a warmth blossoms in his chest. It’s the same flowery kind of fragile feeling his magic gives him. Opening up slowly and spreading through his chest and into his limbs. Stiles shuts his mouth, eyes focusing on where their fingers overlap and then up to Peter’s eyes watching him.

“You?” Stiles jerks his hand back immediately, the mug goes flying and shattering against the floor. The warmth in Stiles disappears. “No, No. I won’t accept this,”

“Stiles,” Peter purrs.

“You’re a homicidal maniac.” Stiles points accusingly. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Stiles,” Peter says plaintively and Stiles glares at him but says nothing. Peter keeps silent himself, instead beckoning Stiles closer. The teen doesn’t move and Peter sighs.

“Your arm Stiles,” he says.

Stiles presses his lips tight but steps forward and holds his arm out. Peter takes his wrist gently and the warmth erupts in Stiles again. His skin tingles were the werewolf touches him and a memory flickers before Stiles eyes.

An abandoned car park at night. Peter holding his arm this delicately, this firmly. Peter baring teeth, and the warm ghost of his breath along the inside of Stile’s wrist. That simple question. That offer that was so hard for Stiles to turn down and yet so easy.

“You knew,” Stiles feels breathless. “That night, when you—you knew.” 

“No,” Peter’s voice is quiet, his eyes staring at where his fingers wrap around Stile’s wrist. “I felt something. A witch? Didn’t cross my mind.” Peter’s lips twist in a smile and his eyes flick to Stiles’.

“Yeah, well you were on a whole revenge rampage,” Stiles spits out. Peter grins and the look is all sharp and toothy but entirely human.

“None of you will ever let bygones be bygones, will you?” Peter purrs.

“Dude, you threatened Scott’s Mom!” Stiles says. “No one threatens Mrs. McCall and gets away with it,”

“Pity that didn't work out too, she’s such a fine woman,” Peter pulls a face.

“Dude,” Stiles says but the words get lost as he realizes Peter is still holding his arm, caressing the skin of his inner wrist with his thumb. “You can let me go,” Stiles says.

Peter does, and the flood of warmth and magic disappears into the coolness of life and the simple beating of Stiles heart, a little too fast. Nervous fast.

“Oh my god, I have an undead werewolf uncle with murderous tendencies as a familiar,” Stiles groans, sinking his head into his hands.

“Not yet you don’t.” Peter says and Stiles peaks between his fingers to look at the werewolf’s smirk. “We need to form a solid bond first.”

Stiles groans again, this time louder.

…

As it happens, familiar bonds are more a matter of spilling blood together under a new moon and vowing to protect each other. Stiles is grateful for this, because his mind had gone straight into the gutter. After all, he’s only seventeen.

His choice in familiar had made the pack all a bit skeptical. After all, wasn’t searching for a phoenix, or basilisk way cooler than becoming magically tied to Peter Hale, of all people. Stiles had managed to convince Scott and Derek by explaining to them that this meant the pack could keep a better eye on Peter—and he was obligated to save Stiles’ life should if fall in danger.

Stiles left out the part about being equally obligated to save Peter’s life. After all, precaution was the best cure for anything, and he really wasn’t sure Derek would be able to survive another round of killing his Uncle.

Stiles wears one of his new tees, funny screen print free, and an old pair of pants. No point in ruining his only good jeans in the woods so soon after getting them. Peter is in his usual, and the whole pack arrives with him (except Scott who had been adamant Stiles needed him for moral support). None of them have to be there, but everyone wants to watch and it makes Stiles a little antsy. After all, they’re  
not getting married… just… magically… married.

Deaton hadn’t given Stiles a knife or anything because in his words _“The blood must be spilt by the familiar and witches own hands”_. Which, very helpful. 

Stiles frowned at Peter’s smirk as the werewolf joined him in the small clearing in the near pitch black woods.

“You’re way too giddy for this,” Stiles grumbled and Peter just stopped in front of him and didn’t lose the smirk.

“I’m merely pleased to have the honor,” the words dripped sugary sweet, and teasing. Peter reached for Stiles hand and the teen let him have it with an eye roll. He figured he’d have to get used to this weird wrist holding if he was signing up to take Peter along with him everywhere, which, now that Stiles thought about it…. college was going to be difficult.

Stiles was considering going back on his wording, thinking you know a nice gnome might be much easier to explain to a potential girlfriend or boyfriend, when Peter had sunk sharp clearly wolf teeth into Stiles wrist.

“Son of a—” Acting on instinct, Stiles screamed and shot out his free hand to clock Peter in the nose. He wasn’t really a bad shot, Jackson could attest to this.

Peter let go, stumbling and reaching to touch his nose. He drew his hand back to look at the blood there and Stiles stared wide eyed. He slowly looked to his own wrist, crimson droplets bubbling up from the small cuts in a circle there. Swallowing fear and apprehension and maybe regret Stiles looked to see half the pack frozen as if coming to his rescue.

He turned his wrist to show them and felt the words leave his lips more than actually heard himself say it.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace?”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this is really sloppily thrown together and mostly just the bare bones of a story... I had an idea... I wanted to get it out.


End file.
